A Knight in Central Park(82)



Only one man stood waiting...a familiar man in unusual clothing. She smiled demurely as she approached the most handsome of troubadours. The tall, dark and handsome man with roguishly good looks did not appear at all amused. “Ari’s clothes were bad enough, but this,” Sir Joe said with arms held wide, “is just not me.”

Alexandra smiled as she spied him at closer view in all his regal splendor. Upon his head sat a small soft-crowned hat with upturned brim and an ostrich plume that fell to the side. A spectacular and heavily embroidered doublet enhanced his broad shoulders and narrow waist, and the skin tight hose revealed enough of him to make her cheeks warm with color.

“If you keep gawking at me in such a way, my lady, I might be compelled to sweep you into one of these darkened alcoves and have my way with you.”

“Methinks you are a scoundrel.”

He leaned closer. “Methinks you are a seductress.”

“Have you wanted me?” she asked boldly, her gaze on his. “Since that night we shared such intimacy, have you but once thought of taking me into your arms and carrying me to your bed?”

Sir Joe did not appear taken aback by her bluntness, nor did he look away or change the subject as she thought he might. In fact, he lifted a hand to her face, and surprised her when he spoke, his voice filled with emotions. “You know I have, Alexandra. I never wanted to be just your friend. Friend and lover, yes,” he amended, his thumb smooth against her jaw. “But never just your friend.” He stepped closer, took her in his arms, and brought his lips to hers. She’d scarcely seen this amorous side of him, and she well liked it. She curled her arms about his neck, wishing the kiss could linger on forever, but it wasn’t to be.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, they reluctantly parted. Sebastiano and Garrett quickly approached, setting her cheeks to flushing at being so openly brazen. Sir Joe said quickly into her ear, “Nothing short of three kids, a toothache, and your being kidnapped by the king’s men could have stopped me from seeking you out, I swear.”

She smiled before they turned to greet the others. It was good to know he wanted her.

“Well,” Sebastiano said cheerfully, “I see the wandering troubadour has found our monastic maiden.”

Joe looked at Alexandra, noticing for the first time her long gray robes and plain wimple.

“The story you will tell on stage has to do with a troubadour’s love for a nun,” Sebastiano announced.

“There’s no need for us to go on stage,” Joe told Sebastiano. “After the musicians begin we can quietly disappear and spread out in search of Mary.”

“We cannot,” Sebastiano replied. “I promised the head musician we would go on stage first so as to give them time to set up. They are even now waiting for us to appear. Besides, you will be assured a good look at the audience while you are on stage. Signal me if you see anything of a suspicious nature.”

“Did you warn the king?” Alexandra asked Sebastiano.

Sebastiano shook his head. “They would not allow an introduction, I am afraid, and my orders were to relay the message to no one other than the king himself.”

“I’m no actor,” Joe said worriedly. “I can’t go out there. This will never work.”

Sebastiano gave Sir Joe a friendly pat on the back. “The ladies will be enamored by such fanciful garb and will care not about the manner in which you speak the written words.”

Clearly, Sir Joe was uncomfortable with his allotted role in Sebastiano’s plans.

“Forbidden love,” Sebastiano went on hurriedly, “is the root of the story we will be telling this day. A love frowned upon by all except the two people in the midst of love’s eternal control. Two people from two different worlds some might say.”

As Sebastiano rambled on, Alexandra found her attention focused on Sir Joe’s profile as she wondered if he too noted the correlation between Sebastiano’s tale and their lives.

“Alexandra,” Sebastiano scolded, making her cheeks flare, “are you listening to a word I am saying?”

“She is too busy staring at the troubadour,” Garrett said with a tad less bitterness than usual.

“I am not staring at the troubadour. ’Tis a ridiculous notion and methinks Garrett’s injury has affected his sight. Now Sebastiano,” she beseeched, “please continue.”

“As I was saying...the troubadour professes a life of wandering the world in search of knowledge, while the woman he loves has only just vowed to serve God for all eternity. And yet now, with their love blossoming, neither can bear to part, for they have found a love so powerful, so rich, that neither can imagine life without the other.”

Theresa Ragan's Books